I heard someone yell, “Cut!” The studio lights came up. Horatio’s on-screen smile vanished. I thought I heard him mumble, “I’m too old for this crap,” as he walked backstage, but I can’t be sure.

I saw my mom in the audience. She looked ashen. Monsieur Thibault, my classmates, the Ahmadis, the Brinkerhoffs, the Wus, Vijay, Constable Lee and her wife—all of them gazed at me with a mixture of shock and pity.

The best day of my life had flipped, in mere seconds, to the worst. Like I’d gone through a portal to another dimension, where everything looked the same, but wasn’t.

I bolted.

I dashed backstage and down the long corridor, past the greenroom, up two flights of stairs and out a set of doors that said Emergency Exit Only. Well, this was an emergency.

I walked back to the hotel. It was already pitch-dark at six p.m.

Fractured thoughts ran through my head.

Eighteen.

Five years.

One more night at the Sunshine Inn.

One. Then…

Ced r Mot l.

Ced r Mot l.

Ced r Mot l.

I let myself into our room with my key. My eyes landed on Mel.

I grabbed him from his place beside the TV. I opened the balcony doors and stepped outside.

I looked over the railing to the busy one-way street, four stories below.

It was a long drop.

I stepped back into the room to get a running start.

I took a deep breath.

I sped toward the balcony.

I flung back my arm —

And chucked Mel into the air, watching as he plummeted to the ground below.